


A New Purpose

by owlboxes



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 13:38:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15909324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlboxes/pseuds/owlboxes
Summary: Atlasdam is a beautiful city, that much cannot be disputed. But Olberic's first few weeks living within the city walls have left him feeling unfulfilled.





	A New Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fic in ages, but this fandom desperately needs more content so I thought I'd throw myself back into it. I've been taking prompts over at my tumblr [http://owlboxes.tumblr.com/], so if you like this and have something in mind, feel free to send it my way!

As their respective journeys had come to an end, it had been a nervous, desperate suggestion, murmured in the dark as they slept side by side, warding off the chill of a Flamesgrace night. Cyrus’ voice had been small, uncertain for once where it was usually brimming with confidence. It was a lot to ask, he had known, but with the inevitable right around the corner - parting ways after breakfast the very next morning - there had been no other time to voice it.

“Stay with me, Olberic,” he had all but whispered, vulnerable in his urgency, as if he might beg if the answer was no. “My bed is big enough for us both. You’d want for nothing, I promise you.” 

As if he needed to beg. As if he needed to offer the world in the palm of his hand. 

The following morning, they had departed together, hand in hand, with so much uncertainy ahead of them except for the promise that they would stay together.

+++

Cobbleston could fit inside of Atlasdam probably a dozen times over. The buildings are all grand, stone polished and maintained in an exacting manner, streets busy with people dressed to the nines and most of them, absolute geniuses. Where his former home had wild grass and vines growing, Atlasdam has carefully planted gardens, blooming with color and fragrant as the finest perfume. Olberic feels out of place, unkempt and bordering on *scruffy*. But one glance at the man at his side and he knows why he’s here. Everyone else’s opinion means nothing. Cyrus’ smile is like the sun when he turns it on him, chasing away every last doubt.

Cyrus’ return to the Royal Academy is equal parts bittersweet and at once heartwarming; to file a report about the goings-on of the former headmaster and his assistant leaves him heavy with a longing, as if he could have done something more. And yet, his colleages welcome him back with open arms, his students, eager to hear about his journeys. He has a new library of books which he is tasked with reading and translating, so much new knowledge to impart. He belongs here, Olberic knows, as he peeks in on Cyrus’ classes, watches how his pupils listen with rapt attention to his every word. 

Olberic doesn’t belong here. Weeks pass and he still feels out of sorts, his clothing not as nice as everyone else’s, his purpose sitting at home and trying to relax after long months of traveling around Orsterra. He’s restless, and often walks out into the fields surrounding the city for an excuse to swing his sword, lest he lose his edge while living in the lap of luxury. He knows Cyrus can see it, that beyond his smile is a longing that cannot be satisfied with three rich meals a day and access to all of the knowledge that the Royal Library has to offer. 

They talk about it. Cyrus might occasionally be less than observant of those around him but he knows Olberic, has seen the darker side of him and everything he’s lost. It culminates in silence, and the two of them sleeping back-to-back that night, because as Olberic can see it, there’s only one option that will help him, and that option means leaving Atlasdam - and Cyrus - behind. It’s an option he can’t bring himself to choose, and so he resolves to better hide his restlessness instead, as he presses a kiss to Cyrus’ forehead and blows out the candle by their bedside.

+++

In the days that follow, Cyrus is withdrawn, and abnormally secretive. He scurries out of their shared quarters right after breakfast, with the excuse that he has private tutoring scheduled that morning with one of his students. He doesn’t return until late, some nights, citing being caught up in the many tomes still spread out in his own little section of the library, a table put aside for his research as dictated by the Princess herself. When Olberic asks how his research is going, he cannot answer besides a vague insistence that it is a lengthy project, and that he doesn’t expect to see the end of it any time soon.

He’s pushed Cyrus away without even meaning to. It leaves Olberic’s heart aching, despite how Cyrus insists that all is well, as they tuck into bed each night and share a quick kiss goodnight. Whatever his lover is up to, he supposes it really is none of his business, but coupled with his own lack of fulfillment, it leaves him wondering if it was worth it in the end, to abandon his old life in search of something new, something better.

That night, Cyrus is snoring a few minutes later, his breath soft and warm against Olberic’s neck as he sleeps peacefully. He’s still snoring when the sun rises, and Olberic is still wide awake, wondering how everything could have fallen apart so suddenly.

+++

Just after mid-day, a knock comes at the door and Olberic is on his feet in an instant. There stands a beautiful girl, soft purple hair falling around her shoulders and worry clear on her face. He knows her - Therese, the one who had nearly cost Cyrus his job, one of his brightest and most temperamental students. 

“I need you to come with me, right now,” she tells him, rushed. “Grab your sword. Professor Albright needs you.” 

His heart sinks, and in a matter of seconds he’s collected his sword from where it still leans by their bedside. She won’t tell him what is wrong as they hurry down the halls and and out, past the palace gates, toward the central courtyard, simply insisting that they need to hurry. His mind is a mess of thoughts, each worse than the last - perhaps one of Lucia’s followers has returned to snatch up the tome that Cyrus reclaimed. Or, a bandit of some sort has come to town and is holding Cyrus hostage. He can’t stand to picture it, blood boiling as he imagines some faceless scoundrel holding a dagger to his lover’s throat-

And then, there is Cyrus, standing in the middle of the square, looking altogether too smug. Olberic does a prefunctory check - no one else is carrying a weapon, no one seems to be in immediate danger - why are there so many children around? Therese is laughing beside him, and her laughter carries to some of the young ones. The young ones, who are all holding wooden swords...

“Cyrus. What is the meaning of this?” he hears himself demanding, as his lover approaches, gently laying a hand against his shoulder. He should be angry. Instead, he’s just relieved. 

“This is your very first training session with the children of Atlasdam,” Cyrus replies easily, gesturing to the veritable army of children, all of them gazing up at him with that same excitement that he remembers seeing in Philip. Cyrus’ voice drops a hint, his smile blindingly bright. “I couldn’t allow you to continue feeling like you’ve lost your purpose, could I? They’re all eager to learn, and I know you’ll be a fantastic teacher.” 

There’s no time for the emotion welling up in his chest, and Olberic buries it, just deep enough that he’ll be able to reach it later. He’s never loved a man as selfless as Cyrus Albright. Whatever he’d done for the Gods to gift him with his perfect match, he’ll never understand.

As the children gather around for their first lesson, one glance over at Cyrus confirms all he’s needed to know. Cobbleston, Atlasdam, these are just places to live, places to lay down his head and rest.

But Cyrus? He’s home.


End file.
